


The Blue Box

by my_unicorn



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 03:04:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2835671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_unicorn/pseuds/my_unicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock falls off the rails, John has only one choice left and as little as he likes it it is his only option but when a mysterious case appears on the bloggers website it seems Sherlock Holmes is the only man for the job.<br/>The Doctor is lost after a devastating loss but when he meets a fascinating alien girl whose only wish is to see earth he cannot deny her the opportunity.<br/>Dean and Sam are just getting used to having Castiel back with them when Sam finds a case that the men of letters kept secret for years, the men only have the beginnings of the case but as Sam unravels more and more the case gets more confusing than the brothers ever thought possible.<br/>Intertwining story of Sherlock, Doctor Who and Supernatural.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.

"It Takes Ten Times As Long To Put Yourself Back Together As It Does To Fall Apart."

Sherlock-

“Bored!” Sherlock shouted from his chair in the living room. It had been weeks, months? Since his last case and he had been bored for all but a single day. John sighed and threw a pack of cigarettes at him, “Here!” He shouted as he threw them, finally Sherlock had broken the doctor. “Are you happy now?” John questioned as he sat down in front of his laptop. “No,” Sherlock mumbled while stuffing a cigarette in his mouth. “There’s nothing on the website, nobody at the door, Sherlock. People just don’t have problems to solve,” John informed the detective, leaning back in his chair. Sherlock shot out of his seat, smoke billowing from his mouth “There must be something!” He was close to screaming.

“Boys! Boys!” Mrs Hudson shouted as she hurtled up the stairs, “What’s all the shou-“ She cut herself off, “Sherlock are you smoking?” She asked sternly while pulling the cigarette out of his mouth, Sherlock blew the last of the smoke over his shoulder. “I’m bored Mrs Hudson,” He moaned. “Well,” She looked around “You could always try tidying,” This made Sherlock laugh but when John got home from the shop later that night, the flat was spotless and Sherlock was sitting in the centre of the room, his chin resting on his hands. 

“What on earth?” John questioned as he found Sherlock apparently trying to grow a cannabis plant in the kitchen after running out of cigarettes. “Do you know how illegal that is?” He questioned, staring at the then small plant. “It’s not if you have the correct licence,” Sherlock replied matter-of –factly “My brother really can get you anything,” John sighed and turned his back on who he now believed to be a mad man.

John edged his way through a group of people standing outside Waterstones. Sherlock really was the most difficult person in the world to buy Christmas presents for. So far all John had were 2 books, one by the name of “A guide to defeating boredom” the other, “Cannabis: A history” John decided that both would be helpful as their kitchen had been overcome by the drug, apparently nicotine just wasn’t enough anymore. It had been months since he’d had a case.

By month 12 John was worried. Sherlock barley moved, he remembered Lestrade’s name every time besides, even if he had a case, he was too drugged up to be able to solve it. At the 1 year mark John decided that the world had forgotten about the great Sherlock Holmes. Even Mrs Hudson noticed, Sherlock was being drawn closer and closer to insanity.  
Month 16 and there was a case. For a single week Sherlock was back and the papers reported that he had risen from the dead. It was a quick case of course, everything was for Sherlock but this one seemed to take him longer than it would have 16 months earlier, he was rusty.

Sherlock skipped over one thing on that case though, the way John smiled at him, seeing him back in the game.  
Month 21 and Sherlock hadn’t had any more cases, he had shrunk further and further into himself and John hadn’t seen him in 3 months.

John stood outside Maudsley Hospital for the mentally ill. Months since he’d seen Sherlock but he wasn’t nervous, he didn’t feel guilty for not visiting. He only felt angry and the anger boiled inside him. Sherlock had left him, not physically but mentally. In the final days before he’d been sent to the hospital the 2 hadn’t even spoken, Sherlock cared more about the insane boredom than he had about John and that hurt him.

The hospital was awful. A person in a wheelchair was shouting for a priest to carry out an exorcism, another was simply sitting on the floor rocking back and forth. Slowly John made his way to where he’d been instructed to find Sherlock. Sherlock was sat on the edge of his bed, unmoving just as before. He didn’t say a word to John but John didn’t need to hear it. Across the walls, the floor, the ceiling there were two words, ‘Boring’ and ‘Moriarty’.

John shook his head and tried to refrain from shouting but he couldn’t do it, “Sherlock!” he shouted in the crazy man’s face. “Are you in there?” The ex-detective’s hair was more untidy than usual. “Sherlock!” He yelled again. The man barely breathed. “Moriarty is dead, Sherlock,” John spoke quietly, “Dead. Do you understand what that means?” He kneeled down on the floor in front of the almost unrecognisable man. “No,” he shook his head, “Of course you don’t, you died, do you remember that? But you didn’t really, did you? It was all just a game,” He couldn’t bring himself to look at him. “Moriarty is dead, Sherlock, and nobody even remembers your name,” He said flatly before leaving the room and the hospital, not even stopping to look back at his old friend.


	2. "As long as there is love and memory, there is no true loss."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor is at a loss after facing what he hoped he never would have to

"As long as there is love and memory, there is no true loss."

Doctor Who-

“Clara!” The Doctor screamed as he ran after her down the corridor, “Clara!” he yelled again, no reply. The corridor was dark and cold, metal clad with no doors or windows, just darkness, no light at the end of the tunnel. The Doctor had no idea where the TARDIS was, the changing and shifting walls made it impossible to know, but all he cared about in that second was Clara. Then, he heard a scream.

The screaming never ended and The Doctor raced after it, he couldn’t let her die here. Not in this place, he’d already left her for dead in the grips of the Daleks once before and he had vowed to never let it happen again.  
When The Doctor saw a dark shape lying in his path he knew it was the end, he’d never wanted it to end this way with Clara but he couldn’t have helped it, so why did he feel so guilty?

The Doctor carried Clara’s frail, unmoving, empty body back through the maze of pathways; he didn’t meet another Dalek for they had got what they wanted. The blood of the girl The Doctor treasured the most. The Doctor couldn’t have left her lying there for the Daleks to use and manipulate. The Doctor struggled under the sheer mass of Clara’s lifeless body as he found and unlocked the TARDIS.

The Doctor let her go in the stars for from up there she’d see everything she could ever want to.  
He couldn’t bring himself to go back to earth after that, the guilt overcame him but he kept a smile on his face as usual. He travelled the galaxy, chatting with aliens and half-humans, droids and talking trees. He ventured far and wide, leaving his troubles behind him but never picking up anyone new.

The Doctor wandered through a street market on Amanopia, a planet inhabited by bright blue humanoids. He passed hundreds of body part trading stalls but it was really the local cuisine that he was looking for, he always tried to keep a good stock of Amanopian food in the TARDIS but he had run out somehow…. He hadn’t been focused in a while, just a while. Behind his favourite stall he saw a new face. A Amanopian with bright blue skin and wide eyes, she didn’t have any hair like most Amanopians and like most Amanopians she also didn’t seem to have the need for clothes. All she wore were big, round, gold earrings that looked curiously human. “Hello,” The Doctor said to the new tender in her native tongue, she only nodded back and continued to restock. “Doctor!” A huge Amanopian man shouted from the back of the stall, The Doctor hadn’t noticed him sitting there until now. The man looked much older than he had when they’d last met, his stomach was rounder, he’d gained more chins. Quicker than expected though, the naked blue alien was hugging The Doctor as if reunited with an old friend, though he and The Doctor had met a few times now, he certainly would not count them as friends but then again the Amanopians were a caring race. “You look tired friend,” The man said in English, ever since The Doctor had mentioned Earth to him the old cook had been fascinated and had insisted on speaking to The Doctor in English, the language sounded strange in the man’s foreign Amanopian accent. 

The Doctor shrugged at the old man’s remark yet he was persistant and continued to question The Doctor, not wanting his “friend” to feel upset. “You have lost someone?” The man asked sincerely, he was benevolent; The Doctor would give him that, though that didn’t excuse the fact that his questions were simply bothersome. The Doctor nodded in reply, not wanting to get into it. He hadn’t spoken about her yet and wasn't prepared to start now, especially to this Amanopian whom he could count his meetings with on one hand. 

The Doctor quickly turned back to who he could only assume was the man’s daughter on the stall and took his pick of the food on display. “Those earrings look incredibly earthly?” he asked, “You don’t see many young Amanopians wearing jewellery like that,” He commented. The girl blushed, her cheeks went a strange green sort of colour due to her yellow blood and blue skin. “My father bought them from an Earth trader for my birthday,” She said in perfect English, The Doctor was baffled, he had never heard an Amanopian speak English to such a great extent.  
The Doctor persisted to tell the young blue alien about Earth, its great oceans, its myths and tales, its mountains. When the girl told him that she’d love to see it someday, The Doctor grabbed her hand and replied: “Oh of course you would, shall we get going?”


	3. “We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchester brothers are thrilled at the return of the angel Castiel but when Sam uncovers a mysterious unsolved case in the bunker's archives they are sent into a whirlwind of unbelievable discoveries.

“We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.”

Supernatural-

Dean ran from his room as he heard Sam greet a very familiar voice into the bunker, skidding on the floor in his fluffy winter socks Dean stumbled into the main room and saw him standing there, Castiel. He hadn’t seen his best friend in months but tried to collect himself as he was now in full view of other people. “Cas!” He shouted across the room and made his way over, going in for a hug before remembering that Cas was not exactly the hugging type but by the time he realised it was too late, he was committed to the hug. As his arms encircled Castiel he was cringing for himself but to his great surprise he felt Castiel’s arms surrounding him, “Hello, Dean,” he heard Castiel’s husky voice reply. The hug in reality lasted little more than a couple of seconds but of course in Dean’s head it felt like hours though somehow still not long enough. 

“So, where’ve you been Cas?” Dean questioned the angel as he sat down to dinner, Castiel had already assured him that he would watch him eat, thank god, Dean wondered however he would manage if Castiel wasn’t watching his every move. Sam sat down; stared at the angel for a second, shook his head and stuffed his burger into the black hole he called a mouth. “New York to seek out an angel posing as a business man, England to find an expert on angel lore, New England because I went to the wrong England, Virginia, India, Africa, Australia….” Cas began before Dean cut him off, “We asked where you’d been not your life story, Cas,” Dean said between mouthfuls. “That wasn’t my life story, Dean. Those are the places I have been,” Castiel looked confused and Dean laughed at the angel’s tilted head. 

Dean was fast asleep in memory foam bliss when he was woken by the bright light of the door opening. “Sammy! Danger! Demon! Dad!” Dean seemed to yell the words all at once as he fell out of his bed and grabbed for his gun. “Cas!” He shouted yet again as he realized who the shadow in his doorway was. He sat up and leaned against his wall panting. “What the hell are are you doing in here?” He questioned the yet again confused looking angel. “I was looking for you,” was his, what he considered logical, reply. “I was sleeping,” Dean moaned, rubbing his head as his eyes focused on the angel’s face in the darkness. “I heard a noise,” was the angel’s guilty reply. “You heard a noise? Castiel, if it was anything serious I can assure you, I would’ve heard it myself now go back to sleep,” He said, forgetting the main problem with his solution, as an angel Castiel did not in fact sleep.  
“I don’t sleep,” Castiel seemed almost offended by Dean’s remark, as if by stating that Castiel sleep he had offended god and all his creations. “Sorry, Cas, I’m tired that’s all. Just go do whatever it is you do while I sleep,” Dean mumbled as he crawled back into his bed. “I watch over you while you sleep,” Castiel stated. “You weren’t before,” Dean said in a whiny voice as he turned his back on the angel. “I was researching,” Castiel retorted. “Fine!” Dean snapped, and pulled his duvet further over him, “but at least close the door,” in seconds, the door had quietly shut and Castiel was sitting at the edge of Dean’s bed.

Sam poured over books for the next few days; in fact he never seemed to lift his damn head out of a book. Dean didn’t understand how he could take in so much information from the filthy pages of the old books. Castiel, of course, was his usual self. Dean tried to teach him the fine art of sarcasm while they were stuck in the bunker but it was no use so instead he decided to educate him in The Lord of The Rings, this class consisted of watching all 3 extended edition movies in a single day, not wanting to confuse him with The Hobbit until he had all 3 extended edition DVDs. 

“Dean!” Sam shouted from the main room and Dean skidded through to meet his brother, “What, Sammy?” He asked, intrigued in what his brother had found in all his days of research. “Look at this,” Sam began, pushing some sheets of paper over to Dean. “This man,” he pointed to a man slightly younger than the brothers, he wore a bow tie and his hair in a huge quiff, he seemed to look exactly the same in every picture, not even a real difference in his clothing or hairstyle. “What about him?” Dean asked, spreading the pages out in front of himself. “Look how many of these pictures he appears in,” Sam said, pointing the same man out in at least 20 different pictures. “Yeah, so?” Dean questioned, shrugging “A man can get around, Sammy,”. Sam sighed and shook his head, his older brother really wasn’t getting the point. “This picture is from 1911, Dean,” He said pointing at a black and white picture of the man standing in front of what looked like the Titanic. “This one,” he said, pulling over another picture, “Is from 2009,”

Dean was stunned, his first thought was that the images were probably of a demon; never ageing seemed to work for them. When Sam started pulling up more pictures of different men appearing throughout history in various paintings and pictures he was still adamant that they were demons, when Sam told him of the mysterious blue box linked to every one of the men, Dean still called demon. The final set of pictures Sam showed him though completely changed his mind. The first picture showed one of the men, clearly hurt, the blue box behind him. In the second the man was glowing. In the third the man’s face had changed into that of one of the other men Sam had shown him. This man was no demon.


End file.
